


The Most Perfect Infiltration Method

by Virodeil



Series: Caught Is Caught Is Cuddled [28]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Children, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virodeil/pseuds/Virodeil
Summary: Little Thor came up with a supposedly sneaky plan to topple Jötunheim from inside.Littler Loki thought his elder brother had grown more interesting and they were going to play spy.Littler Loki should have been more wary… maybe….
Relationships: Farbauti & Loki (Marvel), Laufey (Marvel) & Loki (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: Caught Is Caught Is Cuddled [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1089204
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90





	The Most Perfect Infiltration Method

**Author's Note:**

> In Rey-verse, Thor is 200 years older than Loki. In this fic, Thor is 300 years old, while Loki is 100 years old. In Asgardian standard and compared to modern humans living moderately well in big cities, they are respectively 6 and 4 years old. However, in Jötunheimi standard for the same comparison, they are respectively 4 and 2 years old. So, in this fic, Thor is biologically about 6 human-standard years old, or maybe somewhat less, owing to his buried jötun heritage. Meanwhile, Loki is biologically 2 human-standard years old, but made to grow faster in mind given his Asgardian upbringing – and children of the æsir and jötnar are different from human children, in any case.
> 
> List of nicknames used:  
> Úti: Farbauti, Loki’s birth sire  
> Fié: Laufey, Loki’s birth dam
> 
> Started on: 2nd June 2019 at 09:54 AM  
> Finished on: 3rd January 2021 at 09:05 AM

A pair of small figures, shrouded in their thickest, warmest winter gears, shrouded further by drab, raggedy rags, shivered in the dark and biting chill.

Or rather, one genuinely shivered, while the other, smaller one shivered _because of startling enjoyment of the very chill of the weather_. But he wouldn’t tell his companion about that, because it would feel both weird and aweful, and his companion would throw a tantrum for the sheer absurdity of it.

This situation was already weird and aweful enough.

His companion, larger and taller than he was by a rather sizeable margin, Thor Odinson, the first heir to Asgard’s throne, a three-hundred-year-old and the elder sibling of one Loki Odinson, had had a seemingly brilliant idea. The two of them were going to topple Jötunheim – the realm of fearsome, savage, horrible frost giants – by posing as little servants in the seat of their power: the palace in Útgarð, the “capital city” of Jötunheim, according to the story their chief nanny had read them the night before. And he himself, Loki Odinson, the hundred-year-old second heir to Asgard’s throne, hadn’t had the heart to criticise him too much for it, despite knowing that they didn’t know enough about Jötunheim or anything else in and about it.

Well, the both of them reaped the “benefit” of Thor’s fervour and luck, now, after _somehow_ managing to steal an interrealm skiff that they – or rather, Thor, since Loki wasn’t tall and strong enough yet – could pilot with just some difficulty, a relic of the war between Asgard and Jötunheim, which Asgard had of course won.

Because, against all odds, they had arrived at Jötunheim, or so it seemed judging by the chill and the ice and the snow and the ruins and the blue-skinned gigantic giants with red eyes milling about not so far away. But they were still outside, and they needed to be inside, and there were _lots_ of the fearsome, savage, horrible frost giants between them and the nearest intact building that might be the palace.

They had planned to sneak in, counting on their sneakiness and small sizes and the rags they had lain over their winter clothes, just like how they had fooled their nannies and the guards.

But the attention of the frost giants was _all_ trained on the skiff, now, and it was _far harder_ to sneak away when the people one would like to sneak by were too watchful.

And then, a group of frost giants approached them, all layered in ice that made them look even more monstrous than before.

Thor screamed, frozen where he stood but not by ice.

But Loki poked his head out of the side of the skiff, gawking and cooing.

Because he had always liked the colours blue and green, and these monsters, however fearsome they were, had blue skin and wore green loincloths. One even wore green chest-wrap and felt somehow familiar to him!

Shockingly, they did not hurt the brothers when they arrived at the skiff. Two of them picked Thor and Loki up, and Loki got the somewhat dubious pleasure of being carried by the frost giant with the chest-wrap – a giant _ess_ , it seemed, though with the deep voice of a man when… she?… issued forth what sounded like orders to the other frost giants.

“Where are you taking us?” he piped up when they entered the building, which was made of stone and ice and decorated sparsely by softly glowing colourful little lamps, but _not_ to the prison area – at least he did not think so.

“To a place where someone can privately test a point,” was the answer, delivered in a neutral voice that seemed to hide many things.

And Loki was _always_ enamoured of secret things. Hence he asked, “What point?”

The giantess did not answer, but people rarely answered Loki’s questions, anyway, for many reasons – and even more _excuses_.

He subsided with ill grace, sulking in the admittedly comfy hold of the giantess.

And the giantess _cuddled_ him for that. Well, how shockingly nice.

The century-old child, pretty homesick and uncertain by now, took the unspoken invitation with all alacrity, snuggling deep in the giantess’ arms, something that was in the least _familiar_ in this odd happening.

And then, just as he was dozing off, something _even more familiar_ approached him – well, _them_. So he bestirred himself and, almost like in the skiff, peeked out over the arms of the giantess.

“Úti,” the newcomer seemed to greet the giantess, listlessly.

“Fié,” the giantess replied, in the same neutral voice as before. “I have a gift for you. Well, two of them, but especially this. We found them lurking in one of Asgard’s stray war-skiff.”

A hand – not the giantess’ – reached out and gently tilted Loki’s chin up, then. The contact stirred something in him, but _not at all_ concern about the chill of the blue skin the _humongous_ hand was wrapped in.

The newcomer said nothing to the curious child. But maybe they needed no introduction, nor an interrogation of who Loki was. For, just as their scrutiny of Loki’s face was getting awkwardly lengthy, a torrent of power suddenly bathed the child, but gentle for all its strength and suddenness.

Loki let out a gasp, but with wonderment instead of shock or pain.

The presence – the power – _everything_ – was familiar to him in the deepest part of him, somehow, even more than Mama, even more than Papa.

And when the humongous hand pressed tenderly _and with so much meaning_ on his little chest, he was swamped with a _memory_ , not only of shock and pain and horror and loss but also of fierce love and companionship and safety and _belonging_.

The words – the _name_ – that they spoke afterwards clinched it.

“Loptr Laufey-childe.”

It rang in everything that was him, and also in the room despite the softness of the proclamation, and also in his memory – the memory that had just been unearthed by the newcomer’s actions, the same actions that the newcomer _had once done to him_.

He smiled, bemused but elated nonetheless. He had always felt that he was different from the other children, and felt odd with his own name, and now he knew why.

He was a frost giant, after all, if a tiny one. But it was all right, because he did not feel monstrous, and these giants did not behave monstrously, and he was _him_ at last, and the giants did not mind him being tiny.

The newcomer – _his_ , as he was theirs – even picked him up in turn and cuddled him close, as though he were the most precious treasure in the whole universe to them, and it felt _even more right_ and _even more pleasurable_ than when the giantess had done it to him.

Everything had run oddly and not as planned, but it was all right in the end, he thought.

There was no need to topple Jötunheim. He was not about to ruin his own home, after all.


End file.
